


Paranoia (of the good kind)

by Kaimu



Category: Swimming RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 11:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaimu/pseuds/Kaimu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the Olympics in Rio and Ryan's kicking everyone's butt in the pool. Everything's going great for the New Golden Boy, except that he can't shake the feeling that he's being watched</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paranoia (of the good kind)

**Author's Note:**

> First time I write about these two. What can I say...I'm a Lochte fan and have a soft spot for Phelps, so... Yeah. Team Phlochte!

Nobody really believes it, especially not Ryan himself, when Ryan wins almost every race he swims or at least wins silver. It's completely unbelievable, but it's true.

If he keeps on going like this, he's gonna beat Michael's record. Which is...Well, it pretty much leaves Ryan speechless and everyone knows it takes a lot to make Ryan Lochte speechless.

He goes through the interviews in a daze, answering every question as well as he can. Of course there are questions about Michael... What Michael would be thinking right now, if they're still in contact, if Ryan misses him. Which is a pretty stupid question, because of course Ryan misses him. He's lost his favorite rival, way too soon in his honest opinion.

As for keeping in contact, Ryan says he's very busy and that Michael's finally living the life now he's retired and just keeps it at that.

He doesn't tell them that he picked up his phone at least a thousand times to call or at least text Michael the last few months, but didn't know what to say and ended up doing nothing in the end. It wasn't like Michael ried to contact him either.

Maybe it was all for the best... Except that it's really not. At least not according to Ryan.

He's listening to yet another question about Michael-fucking-Phelps when he feels it, again. The eyes on him. The eyes he has felt on him ever since he arrived in Rio.

They're not just the stare of his fans or admirers, beause he can feel those too, this stare is different. More...intense.

Without being too obvious about it, Ryan searches the room, his eyes searching out the person who's staring at him, but, just like always, the person has turned his back on him and is walking out of the room before Ryan can make eye contact and see who it is.

He knows he should feel at least a little bit alarmed because, come on; this is getting kind of creepy, except that it's not. He's not feeling panicked or alarmed at all. Not even in the slightest.

He feels like he knows this person, but he just can't put his finger on who it is right now...

Ah, he'll find out one way. And if he doesn't, then he'll just forget all about it.

He's got one last race to keep his focus on anyway. Maybe the biggest race of them all.

Their team has to win. They just have to and Ryan is gonna make sure that they will.

\--++--

Of course he's feeling sick on the day he has to swim what's probably the most important race of the Olympics, of his life. He has to go fourth, just like Michael had to do, to ensure their win, but right now, Ryan doesn't feel like he can do it.

Then Clarry's there and Ryan jumps into the pool, trying his hardest, but the French are already ahead of them and he's supposed to make up for it, but he can't. He doesn't feel like it anymore.

But then, he can feel those eyes...piercing through the water, demanding him to keep going,to keep on pushing forward, to not give up. So that's what Ryan does. He picks up his speed, gets head to head with the last one of the French team, then swims by him with one last power stroke and ticks off on the wall.

They won. They fucking won! All thanks to him.

The team goes wild. The fans go even wilder. The staring eyes disappear.

Ryan can't help but feel a little disappointed even if this is the greatest feeling in the world to have won, right now he can't help but feel a little lost.

\--++--

He's alone in the locker room, still hitting the shower, when he hears the door open. He doesn't make much of it, because it's probably just one of his team mates who forgot something.

He doesn't even hear footsteps getting closer, until he hears a voice.

"Congrats, Golden Boy."

"Jesus- Fuck!" Ryan yelps and whirls around, ready to protect himself if necessary, then he blinks when he sees who's standing in front of him, just outside the showers, leaning against one of the walls. "Mike?"

The man chuckles and pulls off the cap of his hoodie. "Correct in one guess. So, you do still remember me."

"Of course I do." How could he forget?

Michael smirks as he rakes his eyes over Ryan's naked body. Ryan shivers at the intensity of Michael's gaze and then it hits him like a ton of bricks crashing down right over his head.

"It was you."

"Of course it was me." Michael says as he toes off his shoes and removes his pants and boxers almost at the same time. "Who else would stare at you like this?"

"I-" Ryan swallows as Michael pulls his hoodie and his shirt over his head in one go. The breaking of their eye contact makes him able to speak again. "I don't know."

Michael smirks as he moves forward, closer to Ryan, who suddenly gets a small case of claustrophobia.

"You're such a creeper."

Michael laughs, fucking laughs, and crowds in on Ryan even more. Ryan doesn't even try to move away. He's not even sure that he wants to.

"It helped you, didn't it?"

"Yeah. I guess it did."

"Did it freak you out?" Michael leans forward, whispering against Ryan's ear.

"N-no," Ryan breathes out shakily. "I-it didn't. Surprisingly."

Michael is so close, Ryan can almost touch him. It's still not close enough.

"Good." Michael breathes out and takes that one last step forward that makes their bodies touch.

Ryan's breath hitches, "Mike..."

Michael's lips are right by Ryan's ear. "What do you need, Ry?"

"I..." Ryan's breath hitches again when Michael slides his thigh between his legs and he feels his hips buck involuntarily."Please."

"Please, what?"

Yeah, of course Michael **_has_ ** to be cruel like that.

"Please, just-" Ryan sucks in his breath as Michael presses himself, and his thigh, even closer. "Please...Make me come."

Michael chuckles softly and kisses Ryan's earlobe. "Your wish is my command."

Michael shifts so their groins touch each other, making them both hiss, then they start thrusting against each other. They find a rhythm that suits them both fairly quick and then the air is filled with pants and moans and the sound of flesh against flesh, nothing else.

It's over way too soon, for both of them. Ryan comes with a loud cry as Michael bites his shoulder to muffle the cry of his own.

Ryan thinks he's gonna fall down to the floor, but then Michael is leaning against him, still breathing heavily, pinning Ryan between his body and the wall.

Ryan wraps his arms around Michael's waist and holds him while they both come back to their senses. Back down from their high.

When their breathing is steady again, Michael leans back a little to look into Ryan's eyes and smiles.

"Well, that was something."

"Jeah." Ryan finally thinks to shut off the water. At least he doesn't have to pay when the water bill arrives.

"I didn't," Michael gets this look of uncertainty on his face that Ryan hates. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Fuck, no." Ryan leans forward to kiss Michael, moaning when Michael parts his lips and their tongues touch. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this."

That smile appears back on Michael's face and he's about to reply when he hears his phone go off in his pocket where he left his clothes. He pulls back, but Ryan doesn't let him go.

"I have to go, Ry."

"Why?"

"Because. I just have to."

"Regretting this already?"

Michael snorts then smashes his lips against Ryan's in a bruising kiss. "Never."

Ryan finally let's go and watches Michael reatreat out of the showers and pulling on his clothes. It isn't until he sees Michael walk to the door of the locker room that his vocal cords seem to work again.

"Mike?"

Michael stops but doesn't turn around. "Yeah?"

"You're gonna be at the ceremony, right?"

Michael looks over his shoulder and smiles, "Of course I'll be there. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Then he leaves, leaving Ryan alone with just the thoughts in his head. Wondering if this had been just a dream.

He certainly hoped not.

\--++--

At the final ceremony, Ryan finds himself looking for Michael in the crowds, but he doesn't see him. He can't feel the intense stare either.

Maybe it was all a dream. But it felt so damn real...

They're called onto the stage and then up onto their block. The top block. The one with the big nr. 1 on it. The four of them squish together on it and listen to the crowd roar.

Then the ceremony can really begin when the medals will be given out. Ryan's jaw drops when he sees who comes out from where the locker rooms are located and makes his way over to them, waving to the crowds.

Michael Fucking Phelps. So it really wasn't a dream after all.

According to Ryan, it takes a freaking eternity until Michael finally takes the golden medailons and gives them to each member of the team seperately. When it's Ryan's turn, Michael holds on to him a little longer than he did with the others.

"I told you I would be here. " he whispers into Ryan's ear. "See you later, for a private celebration." he pulls gently, playfully, at one of Ryan's curls, then let's him go and winks at him.

Once they all stand up with their hand on their heart, listening to the American Anthem, Ryan suddenly feels like he's on top of the world, but probably for totally different reasons than the rest of his team does.

He has a private celebration party to look forward. And he's gonna enjoy it to the fullest.

All the rest can be dealt with later...Much. _**Much**_ later.


End file.
